Child of Mine
by Anya3
Summary: Just a little piece of HUGE FLUFF that i've had floating around between Arthur and Alfred.


_Ok first I would like to say that this is going to be really short, just a little snippet that I need to get out and into writing._

_This is sort of along the lines of the W.M.O.O. storyline but obviously at a separate point in time . _

_I thought I might feel it awkward since I ship both FACE _and_ USUK. I have the ability however, to separate them into different realities. So in one world they're father/son and in another they are lovers. Separate realities. Ah, love my brain. So it came out all cool._

_Anyhoo, this little piece won't get out of my head since I saw this cute little video of Alfred and Arthur from when he was little set to the song 'Baby Mine' sang by Alison Krauss(a cover from Dumbo) and then I continued the streak by listening to Dixie chicks(hush) 'I'll take care of you' . I'm not ashamed to say I bawled like a baby. ;_; So obviously this will be a father/son family fic._

_I see Arthur and Alfred's relationship as something unique in and of itself. They have this hate and push and pull going but when it comes down to it, what lies underneath all of that will never go away. So off with my head-cannon! :D_

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><p>The echoing of Arthur's brisk steps were lost amongst the crowd of people bustling about the airport. Why he'd chosen to take public transit (of which he was now regretting) he wasn't certain. He had his own small airplane, one that could have gotten him there, but it would not have been as swift. And time, he felt, was of the essence.<p>

Frowning as another rude American shoved their way past him; Arthur pulled his rolling luggage along side him, attempting to weed his way past the crowds towards the taxi loading center. He'd not even taken the time to pack a proper bag, in such a hurry he was. Instead he'd only thrown a few things in a rolling carry-on, grabbed a few essential items and rushed his way to the airport, a slight thicket of panic twisting in his stomach all the way to America.

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><p>He'd gotten the call at four am that morning. The ringing of the phone itself had startled him awake. After a long moment of drowsily fumbling around with the side table, he'd found the receiver and lift the phone to his ear.<p>

"He-hello?"

Silence awaited him on the other end followed by a short sniffling sound. At this, he sat up further in his bed, clearing his throat and trying again. "I said hello?"

"..Arthur..?"

The Britain blinked a few times, frowning deeply. "Alfred?"

What sounded like a small hiccup made its way through the earpiece.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur leaned back against the wooden frame of his bed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Alfred, do you have any earthly idea what time it is? If this is your idea of a joke-"

He was cut off however by the sound of a soft set of sobs floating through the earpiece. Arthur's eyes widened just the slightest and he found himself suddenly feeling very much awake, a tightness clenching at his chest. The slight tingle caused him to press a hand against the skin over where his heart rest, worry creeping into his voice.

"Alfred? Alfred what's wrong?"

Another few hiccup-like sniffles crossed his hearing and he shuffled in the bed, pushing the covers away from his legs and clicking the bedside lamp on. "Alfred, say something, love."

"..I...Daddy I…" the words were lost as the man on the other end of the line broke down crying, the sounds of him clutching the phone tightly mixing in with the heart-gripping sobs.

England stood from the bed quickly, moving to his closet and pulling out a few things, his hands shaking. Alfred hadn't called him that in years. He only ever acknowledged him as a father figure when something was truly wrong. "Alfred, are you at home?"

"…yeah..." the softened voice whimpered.

"Stay there, I'll be there as soon as I can."

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><p>He'd gotten the first flight he could and forty-five minutes later was on an express jet headed towards Alfred's home. He battled his way through the airport to a taxi and rushed the driver towards the ever familiar home.<p>

Finally, nearly twelve agonizing hours later, he was scrambling out of the taxi, tossing the correct amount of American dollars into the cab driver's open palm and dragging his carry-on roughly out of the backseat. Heart pounding, he sprinted up to the front door of the self-proclaimed Hero's home, knocking swiftly on the door.

He nearly jumped as the door was flung open and a tall, heavily sobbing Alfred flung himself against the British man's body, arms tight around his neck, his cries shaking Arthur's smaller frame. He clung to the carryon with one hand, the other arm moving automatically to hold the quaking body to him.

"Come along. Let's get inside, let's get inside." He hushed softly at him, stroking his hand over Alfred's back as he ushered him back in the door, their position making it a bit awkward to maneuver through the doorway. Alfred however, backed away from him just slightly, allowing the elder to enter the doorway and pull the door shut.

He only had a moment to glance up at the blood-shot, tear stained eyes and take in the heavily flushed cheeks before he was attacked again, the body once again plastered against his own. This time, here was no resistance from Arthur whatsoever. Instead he maneuvered them expertly to the couch, pulling the younger country down with him. He opened his mouth to protest as almost immediately America crawled into his lap, curling up his larger body against him, arms clutching him tightly, but could not find the heart to do so. Instead he wrapped his own arms around him, pulling the glasses away from Alfred's face as he buried it in his neck, staining the skin with his tears.

"Shhh, I'm here, love. I'm here."

"Daddy…." He cried, the voice muffled against the soft knit material of Arthur's sweater. It gripped his heart again in a painful tug and he hugged the man tighter to him, doing his best to rock them slightly. It was something that had always calmed the man when he was a child.

"Oh Alfred, what happened?" he whispered softly, pressing light kisses along the crown of his head and along his hairline, reaching up to brush a hand through the soft hair. "Tell me what's wrong so I can help." He urged gently.

Alfred leaned back only slightly, tilting his head up on his shoulder and kicking his shoes off to curl up more comfortably on his 'father'. He sniffled slightly, shifting his eyes to look up at Arthur. "I had a nightmare…"

Arthur's rocking came to a halt, eyes staring down in disbelief at the younger man who was staring up at him with helpless reddened eyes. "What?" Had he seriously just flown over an ocean, deprived himself of sleep and worried sick for the last twelve hours…over a nightmare?

Just as Arthur's anger began to build, ready to shove the man off of him and onto the floor, fresh quiet tears began to stream down Alfred's face. He frowned, but the expression softened as the American began to speak. "I had a nightmare. I was drowning in this lake and I couldn't swim. I kept yelling for you to save me, but you wouldn't. You were so mad at me and yelling and saying you didn't love me. You said you hated me and you never wanted to see me again. Mattie said he hated me too and Papa. Everyone was so mad at me and I couldn't do anything. And I drowned. I couldn't breathe and all I wanted was you…" his voice trailed away as he began sobbing again and Arthur could only stare in saddened shock, all of the anger and resentment he felt deflating within him.

In an instant he'd tightened his grip, pressing his lips to the top of Alfred's head, eyes screwed tightly shut. Moments passed as he let the young man cry before he pulled back. Placing his hands on either side of America's face, he gently urged him to meet his gaze, seeing the watering orbs staring back sadly.

"Alfred. Listen to me." He started softly, brushing his thumbs over the corners of the man's eyes to rid them of the salty tears. "We fight, god knows. We have many an argument over politics and funds. We won't always see eye to eye, that is certain. I will become annoyed with you and angry and I may say that I hate you out of spite and irritation, but I will never _ever_ mean it." He whispered viciously, kissing Alfred's forehead firmly before pulling back to meet his eyes. "No matter what we say to each other, no matter the names we call one another or the fights we get into, I will _never_ stop loving you. You need to always remember that above all else, to me, you are my son and that will never change. I promise you that." He paused, a small smirk on his face. "And if you were floundering, I might make you wallow a bit just to teach you a lesson, but I would never let you drown. Neither would Matthew or Francis. We don't always get along, but we love you boys more than anything in this world and your brother loves you very much as well."

Alfred sniffled a little, leaning into the hands and blinking away some of the tears before nodding his affirmation. He relaxed in Arthur's grip, comfortable to lean against him. The hand stroking at his back was comforting; the puffs of his daddy's breath against his hair; the ever so familiar smell of tea and bakery sweets that radiated from his clothes. All of them helped to calm him into a slow, steady breathing pattern, the tears slowly stopping. His fists were still curled into the older man's sweater vest, unwilling to let him go quite yet.

"Do you want me to stay?" Arthur's soft voice reached the American's ears.

A slow nod against the Britain's chest followed by a soft voice followed the question. "How long will you stay with me?"

A slow smile crossed Arthur's face and he again pressed his lips to Alfred's temple. "As long as you need me, Alfred. I brought some clothes and as long as that washer of yours is still working I can simply wash what I have with me. I'll stay as long as you want."

Alfred nodded again, this time more assuredly. "I want you as long as you'll stay." He replied softly. "I love you, dad."

Arthur smiled to himself, knowing that through all they'd been through, this one thing would never change. "I love you too, Alfred."

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><p><em>And END SUPER FLUFF. Yeah, so there it was t<em>_he thought that's been floating around in my head since I saw that video. *imagine fresh tears just STREAMING down my face-yeah, that was me. Then I thought, OH GOD, HE MUST NEED HIM WHEN HE'S OLDER. MUST. WRITE. THIS* And here it is._

_I love Arthur. I love Alfred. I love them together. And though I do love them TOGETHER, I also love them as family. _

_And as a side note, I totally see Arthur making Alfred call both Francis and Matthew and tell them so he can hear for himself that they love him. This of course leads to them all coming over to see him. Yay family time! _


End file.
